


Mother of Swatches, Thirddest of Wheels

by aspielurkadurp



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/F Flirting, Humor, Language, M/F Friendship, Mild Sexual Content, One Shot, Past Relationships Referenced
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 15:59:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15076658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspielurkadurp/pseuds/aspielurkadurp
Summary: To celebrate the acquisition of Westeros' major interior design firms, Tyrion decides to treat his boss, Daenerys, to a night out on the town at a fancy hookah lounge. But when Daenerys has fun--so much fun that she ends up with a hot date--Tyrion once again finds himself third-wheeling all the women in his life.





	Mother of Swatches, Thirddest of Wheels

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: If you're someone who's super offended by smoking, I would recommend skipping this one.

Tyrion drummed his fingers impatiently on the door of his Bentley. Daenerys was taking too long, and he was hankering for the promised evening of sweet smokes and scotch sodas. Signaling to his driver to wait another few minutes, he approached the door of her sleek apartment and rapped firmly.

“Not to rush or anything…actually, screw it, I’m rushing you. Our reservation’s coming up soon. You almost ready?”

There was no response. Then, five minutes later, Daenerys finally answered the door, dressed neatly in a chiffon halter dress the color of robin’s eggs. Her hair was plaited simply, adorned with tiny flowers that matched her dress, and a light silver was dusted over her eyelids.

Tyrion raised his eyebrows. “You took that long for a tiny bit of eyeshadow and some flowers?”

“They kept falling out. I had to get Jorah to help me,” she responded, rolling her eyes at his impatience.

“Well, I’m certain he loved that. Bet he was eager to help you pick out dresses as well, or better yet watch you try them on.”

“Tyrion!”

“Come on, boss, you know it’s true.” He grinned wickedly, excited to finally have a night out after weeks of working brutal overtime hours. Thankfully for him, Daenerys and he were a power team, hustling in a well-matched partnership to acquire Westeros’s leading interior design firms. Known colloquially in the industry as the “Seven Kingdoms,” all seven companies were now owned by the one and only Targaryen, Mother of Fabric Swatches. To celebrate this successful acquisition, Tyrion had proposed to take his boss on the town to a lounge of his choosing. He secretly hoped she like his choice; not only was it his favorite spot, but Daenerys’ moody inclinations meant that a bad spot could potentially put their partnership at risk.

“So…where are we going again?” She inquired, eyeing the freshly-waxed Bentley with suspicion.

Tyrion took a deep breath, trying his best not to lose it at his partner’s unquenchable impatience. “I told you already, it’s a surprise. Don’t worry, you’ll like it. It will make you feel like a true dragon.” He winked at her, opening the car door to let her in. “See, you can even have shotgun.”

“I’m your motherfucking boss, I better have shotgun,” Daenerys retorted playfully, daintily sliding into the drivers’ seat. Although she wasn’t his type at all, Tyrian had to admit that she even stepped into cars like a true badass. No wonder she got the deal so quickly; her presence was enough to leave his dipshit business rival and brother Joffrey quaking in his boots. Getting in himself, Tyrion quickly typed the address of the place into his driver’s GPS, and they were off.

As they drove, Tyrion covertly pulled a bottle of champagne out from beneath Daenerys’ seat and offered it to her. “A little thirst-quencher before we truly party hard?”

She nodded, popping open the bottle and taking a Lannister-sized swig before handing it to him. “Glad you know your liquor well; I hate the cheap shit that Viserys always sends me on my birthday.”

“That creep doesn’t know the first thing about booze like I do,” Tyrion agreed, helping himself to a few generous sips. “Or about women. Low-key whenever he sees you in your office, he gives off this weird-ass, ‘would-totally-bone-my-sister’ kind of vibe…”

“TYRION!”

“Come on, I’m an expert in picking up on those things! Remember, I’m a Lannister?” He chuckled and finished off the bottle, finding himself incredibly amusing as the bubbles hit.  
Fighting the urge to flip off her coarse business partner, Daenerys merely huffed and pulled out her phone to check her Instagram. Of course, it was Viserys’ posts that flooded her feed the most, followed by the Greyjoy siblings. Curious, Daenerys clicked on one of their videos, noticing a strange device in Yara’s hand. In the video, Yara was dancing with an arm wrapped around her brother, puffing on a long, slender object as she did so. Her hair bounced about her as she danced, and Daenerys couldn’t help but notice how pretty she looked with her wide smile and a telltale flush on her face. Theon just looked tired and vaguely constipated, as he always did. Before closing the app, she suddenly noticed the location tag on their video.

“Tyrion, did you know we had a hookah lounge here?”

“Shit, how did you know?”

“Wait…is that where we are going?”

“Yeah…” he replied, “it was kind of supposed to be a surprise.” 

“Oh, well sorry about that,” Daenerys shrugged. “I was just asking because I noticed the Greyjoys are at one. It seems…fun.”

“Well, there’s a discount tonight for locals, so I was barely able to reserve a booth for the two of us. Half-off hookah and booze is a great deal.” He turned to her. “Ever tried it before?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t,” She responded hesitantly. “Will it get me fucked up?”

“No, not really. It’s not like weed or anything. It’ll just relax you, though you might shake a lot afterwards since this is your first time. Just stay hydrated and pace yourself.”  
She nodded and relaxed a little more. Trying something new for once never hurt her, and she was never one to shy away from a challenge if her partner wanted to challenge her to a drinking game as well. When they finally rolled up to the swanky lounge, loud music blasting as the front doors opened and closed as patrons scurried about, Daenerys felt a light flush of excitement graze her cheeks. Or perhaps it was just the champagne.

~

As the pair stepped into the lounge, the sweet, sultry smell of smoke of all kinds of flavors assaulted their nostrils, causing Daenerys to break into a sneezing fit almost immediately. Politely handing her his handkerchief, Tyrion casually approached the front desk. “Reservation for two, under Lannister, for 8:30.” The attendee nodded and led them to a small but well-cushioned booth in a corner of the lounge conveniently close to the bar. As they sat down, Tyrion patted Daenerys’ hand. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it soon.”

Sneezing in finality, she nodded, handing back his handkerchief. Once her eyes stopped watering, she looked around curiously, taking in the overwhelming but delightfully-colorful sights around her. The room was lit dimly by blacklights, bathing everything in a neon glow and adding a mystifying quality to the smoke around them. The bar, painted generously with bright green neon stripes, was to their right, and a dance floor stood in the center. Small flashes of light reflected from the ornate glass hookah pipes gracing each table, including the one at Daenerys and Tyrion’s booth. Within minutes the attendee came back with a small, foil-wrapped bowl and a dish of coals, briskly setting up their pipe. 

“I ordered Sex on the Beach for both of us, is that okay?” Tyrion winked at the attendee, placing a small, plastic mouthpiece at the end of each pipe. 

“The drink?”

“No, that’s one of the flavor options. You’ll like it, it’s very fruity.”

Hesitating, she watched first as he gently sucked through the tube. On the second hit, soft white smoke poured from his mouth, and he sank back into his seat. He looked at his boss, wiggling his eyebrows. “Try it. Just make sure to pinch the tip whenever I’m using it.”

“Just the tip?” Daenerys inquired, humoring him deliberately.

“Yes, just the tip.”

She hesitated, looking at the pipe. The neon mouthpiece glowed in the blacklighting, making the hookah look like a truly alien contraption. Putting the tube to her lips, she pulled deeply, allowing the smoke to tickle her throat just enough to keep her from breaking into a coughing fit. When she breathed out, the massive cloud of smoke that came forth mesmerized her. She truly felt like a dragon queen in that moment, the cool, fruity smoke dancing on her tongue. 

“So...what do you think?” Tyrion asked, signaling for a waitress to order drinks.

Daenerys nodded thoughtfully, taking another puff. “It’s different, but in a good way,” she exhaled, more smoke curling out of her mouth. In that moment she began coughing violently. “Damn. Shouldn’t speak while partaking, I suppose.”

Tyrion laughed. “You have to pace yourself, too, not just do several puffs in a row.” Soon the waitress returned with two scotch sodas. Giving her one glass, he raised his own. “To our partnership, and all the success it’s brought.”

“Yes, to partners.” Their glasses clinked lightly. It was the start of a riveting evening of smoking, drinking, and great company. Well, for Daenerys, at least. The universe had something else in mind for Tyrion.

~

An hour passed uneventfully in the smoky lounge. Tyrion enjoyed a few more scotch sodas and puffed away effortlessly, even blowing some impressive smoke rings to show off. Daenerys took this rare moment of relaxation to people-watch, savoring the delicious smoke dancing on and off her tongue with each inhale and exhale. At least she wasn’t coughing as much. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Yara dancing seductively on the dance floor. She was wearing a knitted crop top and simple black leggings which flattered her curves well. As she swayed and mouthed along to the lyrics, the glint of a small navel piercing caught Daenerys’ attention. Some body piercings looked tacky, but on Yara’s fit and healthy frame it was a worthy adornment. The newly-christened dragon queen couldn’t help but wonder what other sort of piercings graced Yara’s form, surprising herself. 

Off in a corner stood Theon sulking. He looked very much partied out, nursing a beer and typing on his phone apathetically. Probably posting more #edgy poetry to Instagram, along with photos of his mopey face. He was real fun at parties, as Daenerys remembered well. Once in a while Yara would turn to her brother, beckoning him to at least try and have a little fun on the dance floor. He always shook his head, to which she rolled her eyes and continued undulating her hips to the beat. She was truly a marvel to watch, every inch of her pulsing with both confidence and poise.

“Not too bad on the eyes, is she, boss?” Tyrion smirked in her direction, taking another sip of scotch.

“Not at all,” Daenerys murmured in response, transfixed. She took another puff, hoping secretly that this time the smoke could somehow transmit a secret signal alerting Yara to her presence. She couldn’t understand what was suddenly so mesmerizing about the Greyjoy girl, but tonight, in the smoky room lit hypnotically and graced with dozens of mysterious patrons, she stood out.

Not knowing quite what she was doing, Daenerys stood up slowly, her feet guiding her to the center of the dance floor. Not hearing Tyrion’s protests, here eyes stayed fixed on Yara, whose own eyes were closed, lost in the rhythm and the smoke. When she was directly in front of her, awkwardly skirting past another dancing couple, she cleared her throat. 

“Hello, Yara.”

The Ironborn woman opened her eyes slowly, a mysterious smile spreading on her face. “Daenerys. Pleasure to see you here this fine evening.”

“Yeah, Tyrion took me here to celebrate our acquisition.”

“Congratulations,” Yara responded lazily, hips swaying sweetly as she continued to linger on Daenerys’ slightly flushed face. 

“So…yes. I just wanted to say hi, and, well…” She twisted her hands together, confounded by her sudden bashfulness. What was it about this place that made everything suddenly more enticing, that made Yara, whom she knew but rarely spoke to, suddenly the most interesting person in the room?

Sensing her nervousness, Yara chuckled, but not maliciously. Reaching her hand out to Daenerys suddenly, she offered, “Hey, ‘Mother of Swatches,’ care for a dance?”

Completely and utterly unsure of why she did so, Daenerys murmured, “Yes,” taking the girl’s hand. Her face was warm, and a strange sensation was growing in her abdomen, the sensation of a ribbon tying and untying itself. Gods, she hadn’t felt that in ages, not since she first laid eyes on her deceased husband. 

Taking her in greedily, Yara pulled Daenerys’ slender frame close to her own, pressing her hips against her backside. She slowly slid her hand to the front of the blonde’s dress, resting her hand gently on her abdomen. Blushing deeply, Daenerys closed her eyes and allowed Yara to sway with her, the knot in her gut not only growing tighter, but beginning to sink lower as well. From the other side of the room she could hear Tyrion groan, “Seven hells, not that bloody Ed Sheeran song!” She paid him no mind. She couldn’t even here the music, only a muffled beat as Yara leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Good, you’re finally relaxing.”

Time slowed to a languid, syrupy pace as she and Yara danced, bodies pressed tightly together. Leaning into her, Daenerys shuddered whenever Yara’s breath tickled her neck, her face deepening as her dance partner would occasionally stroke her abdomen with her thumb. Her knees were weak, but Yara’s strong grip around her kept her steady; for the first time in a while, she trusted the night to lead her wherever it desired, unplanned and unchoreographed. 

~

As Daenerys swayed in her little bubble of bliss, Tyrion remained in his corner, growing drunker and drunker as the night progressed. His boss’s neglected mouthpiece was gingerly placed on the edge of the table, long forgotten. Tyrion stared at them sullenly as they danced, exasperated as he was once again relegated to the role of third wheel. “It’s like Sansa and that damn Highgarden girl all over again,” he muttered, finishing off his sixth scotch and soda of the evening, shuddering in remembrance of that godawful arranged marriage. Even when on his own liaisons, he often was stuck as a third wheel, as the “friend” his dates would tag along for a little extra skin on the side would spend the whole night giggling with his main date post-coitus. Without fail, he was always the middle seat in the car of relationships, stuck seething on the hump as his companions would gravitate towards each other.

After a tortuous minute, Daenerys and Yara finally made their way over to his table, glowing and flushed. Snapping out of his mood for the sake of his business partner, he turned politely to Daenerys. 

“Havin’ a fun time?”

“Yes!” She gushed, tightly squeezing Yara’s hand. “Thank you so much for taking me here, this is truly wonderful. I owe you one.”

“Dunn menshun it,” Tyrion slurred, the effects of six scotch sodas finally beginning to hit all at once. 

“Of course he’s drunk; I’d be concerned if he wasn’t,” Yara whispered to Daenerys, and they giggled. Tyrion merely rolled his eyes and slid forward in his seat, his feet almost touching the table. Perhaps he should hit up Shae, just for tonight. No, he told himself. If he was that far gone to where he was considering drunk-texting his ex for the umpteenth time, he was better off just going home. 

“Anyway, Tyrion…” Daenerys interrupted his train of thought. “Yara invited me back to her place, so feel free to leave whenever. And thanks for taking me out, again, it was a lot of fun.” She playfully patted her partner’s head, biting back a laugh as it caused him to nearly fall out of the booth completely.

“Sure, do whaddeverthehell you like, dun mind me.” His chin moved just barely, pressed hard against his chest as he gave up all semblance of someone having a good time.

Yara took Daenerys’ arm eagerly, dragging her outside into the cool night. A moment later, hastily calling for the check to be brought and paying off both the hookah and nearly 150 gold dragons worth of drinks, Tyrion stumbled outside as well. Thankfully, his driver was attentive, and the Bentley rolled to a stop within seconds in front of the curb. Before getting in the car, Tyrion noticed Daenerys and Yara still lingering outside of the lounge. Yara had pressed her newfound squeeze against the wall and was lavishing her with what could only be presumed as hickeys, judging by the small spots on Daenerys’ neck. His boss was breathless with excitement, and even from a distance Tyrion could see her fingers slowly inching their way down the front of Yara’s leggings. Muttering, “Girls,” under his breath, he gave the driver an extra tip for his patience and flopped into the back of the car. So much for a relaxing celebration.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is a shorter and more lighthearted side-project I conceived while working on my current fic, "A Delicious Honeymoon." I've always like Tyrion and Daenerys' dynamic a lot in the show, and wanted to spotlight their unlikely partnership in this fic. Hope you enjoyed this!


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